


Swaying To My Own Sound

by feathers_and_cigarettes



Series: Secret Avengers 'Verse [4]
Category: Daredevil (Comics), Daredevil (TV), Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Background Winterhawk, Bible Kink, Biblical Scripture References (Abrahamic Religions), Blasphemy, Blind Character, Comicverse Matt Murdock, Do you know how many Bible quotes I had to look up, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, Humor, I'm not sorry, M/M, Post Tales of Suspense, Pray For Kate Bishop, Secret Avengers 'verse, neither is matt, timelines what timelines, too many - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:22:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21815125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feathers_and_cigarettes/pseuds/feathers_and_cigarettes
Summary: (Secret Avengers 'verse Side Adventure! Can be read as a standalone).Barton wiped the tears from his eyes, took the drool-soaked tennis ball from Lucky’s mouth, and pitched it down the hall. “Dude, you are getting laid on a regular basis by one of the hottest people in New York – aside from me and Buck and Luke Cage, obviously – and you’re worried because he’s got a fucking Bible kink?” (In which Matt discovers Frank wanted to be a priest before he joined the Marines and Frank discovers how much he actually remembers of that crap).
Relationships: Frank Castle/Matt Murdock, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Series: Secret Avengers 'Verse [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1350253
Comments: 12
Kudos: 152





	Swaying To My Own Sound

**Author's Note:**

> This goes sometime after "Riding the Lines" and sometime before "Learning Peace" in the timeline but as always, can be read as a standalone. Matt and Frank are auxiliary Secret Avengers on Clint's team and help out with local missions. Thanks as always to [Sevdrag](http://sevdrag.tumblr.com) for yelling about this with me and beta'ing. No, I will never come out of this sandbox I created, have some more trash.
> 
> Follow me on [tumblr!](http://feathers-and-cigarettes.tumblr.com)

“Why did we agree to this again?”

Matt ducked the hail of bullets a half second before they opened his skull up all over Frank’s vest. He flattened himself against the barricade, grinning wildly at Frank as the sound of Sergeant Barnes’ friendly fire reached them. “Foggy volunteered us after all that Department of Labour shit. You’re having fun though, Frank, admit it.”

Grunting, Frank waited for a pause in Barnes’ fire before rising over the barricade and unloading a clip. “Rubber bullets ain’t exactly my idea of fun,” he grumbled. “Path to the target’s clear, go. I’ve got your back.”

“Daredevil to Hawkeye, going in,” Matt said into the comm, vaulting easily over the barricade and taking out the nearest AIM rifleman with a vicious roundhouse kick to the head. The guy went down hard, and Frank thought fleetingly he’d look better with a broken neck, but Barton’s been strict about the “no killing unless absolutely necessary” bullshit.

Whatever. He didn’t sign up to be an Avenger.

_“Confirmed, Daredevil. Sergeant’s gonna meet you at the corner, Katie-Kate’s got the next block cleared for you, all citizens evacuated,”_ Barton drawled over the comm. _“Milk run, boys. Wrap it up.”_

Frank lifted his gun to take out a charging AIM fighter, only to curse under his breath as the man fell, poleaxed by the taser arrow through his shoulder. Really, he was just unnecessary here; the only reason he had tagged along was because if he didn’t shoot _something_ he was going to go stir crazy.

He watched Matt’s charging form, lingering perhaps a little too long at the red leather-clad ass, before hopping the barricade himself and striding out into the fray, picking off idiot AIM members as they flung themselves into the street. It’d been a while since he’d been in Queens, and he was pleased to see he recognized a few landmarks.

“Cover that alley to Red’s left, Barton,” Frank commented, firing twice and hitting two more targets. “Couple’a alcoves in there near the street that would be pretty easy to set off a few traps.”

_“I thought you were mostly Manhattan now? Since when did you get over to Queens regularly?”_

Frank shrugged one shoulder, picking his next target. “I was born in Queens and was here a lot when I was with the seminary.”

Matt’s head whipped back around. “Wait, you were with _what?_ ” One rogue AIM footman took advantage of Matt’s shocked exclamation and clocked him hard in the side of the head with his pistol, sending him sprawling.

“Cut the chatter,” Barnes snapped, his voice muffled through his black mask as he appeared from the alley to deliver a brutal uppercut to the footman’s chin with his metal fist.

_“Actually, I kinda wanna hear this story,”_ Barton’s voice crackled over the comm, the snap of his bowstring cracking into Frank’s ears. _“Frankie, you were a fuckin’ priest? How did we not know this? Matt, did you know this?”_

Frank kicked a groaning AIM guard in the head and reached Matt as he staggered to his feet. He took Matt by the elbow, quickly checking for obvious head injuries and readjusting the stupid horned helmet. “I never got that far, I met Maria and that was kinda the end of that,” he huffed. Why was it important? People did stupid shit all the time when they were young; Frank just went the priesthood kind of stupid instead of wanting to be an astronaut or some shit.

“But you were still studying to be a priest,” Matt clarified, face still aimed in Frank’s direction with an eerie intensity. Maybe the fucker had been hit harder than Frank had thought.

“For a few years, yeah. Probably could still recite the Bible front to back if I felt like it – why the fuck are we talking about this?” Frank snapped, bringing his rifle back up and picking off a sniper in the window. Barton should have been on that guy, what the fuck?

The answer came a second later, with laughter hooting through the earpiece. _“I’m sorry, I just… You? A goddamned priest?”_

“Clint,” Barnes sighed, taking point as they made their way to the target building. “Let it go, pal. Not the fuckin’ time.”

_“Spoilsport. Frankie, you and me are gonna get some beers at some point and you’re gonna tell me this seminary story.”_

The doors burst under Barnes’ kicks and Matt seemed to have recovered enough to dive in first, a few cut off yells from inside signalling he’d hit his targets.

Frank followed at a more sedate pace, swinging around to check for more snipers. “You keep callin’ me that, Barton, and I’ll put your head through a beer keg.”

_“Sounds like a date. We can switch sidekicks for a day, right, Matt? You can take Bucky out for pizza and get him all boozed up at Josie’s.”_

The target was quickly subdued, and Frank sent up a thanks to a God he no longer had faith in. The less time he spent with Barton’s goddamned Avengers team, the better; Barnes wasn’t so bad, but Barton easily rivalled Nelson for one of the most irritating people on the planet and Bishop could probably kick his ass into next week.

Matt slammed the AIM officer’s head a little too hard against the wall and deftly secured his hands with zip ties. He let the man crumple to the floor, kicking him hard in the ribs as he hit the ground.

Barnes eyed Matt suspiciously as he finished downloading the laptop’s harddrive. “Data secure. Get Hawkeye and get to the rendezvous,” he said into the comm, pocketing the thumb drive and shouldering his rifle. “Give Castle and I three minutes to get clear, then call it in, Murdock.”

_“Confirmed, heading out to catch up to Hawkeye. Been a pleasure, gents. Hawkeye out.”_

“They gotta get different codenames, man,” Frank said as he followed Barnes out the rear entrance. “You’re gonna fuck up some mission and get into some deep shit.”

“I’ll tell you about Istanbul some time,” Barnes replied with a noise that could have been a laugh, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly. “Stay safe, Castle.”

“Sergeant.”

They parted ways as the sound of police sirens reached Frank’s ears. He zipped his hoodie up over his Kevlar vest and picked his way over to the warehouse where he’d stashed his weapons case. He could hang out there until the coast was clear to make it back to the Avengers safehouse on the other side of town.

He’d been there for maybe ten minutes and was zoning out in contentment as he disassembled his rifle and carefully laid the parts out on the table in front of him, his rag and cleaning kit set out on the table to his right, when the door burst open.

Leaping out of his chair, Frank grabbed the pistol he had tucked into his waistband and spun toward the entrance, fully prepared to pump whatever moron who’d decided to break in full of lead.

What he wasn’t expecting was to be pressed back against the wall by nearly two hundred pounds of red leather-clad idiot.

He gasped and swore, one arm instinctively wrapping around Matt’s waist. Whatever protests he had were quickly swallowed as Matt _attacked_ Frank’s mouth, all teeth and tongue and what the _actual_ fuck had gotten into him?

“Red, Red,” Frank panted, mentally trying to tell his dick that this wasn’t entirely normal and trying to edge closer to the table so he could at least put his gun down. He hissed as Matt sucked a bruise into a particularly sensitive spot on his neck, and yep, definitely a losing battle on the dick front.

Managing to at least pull Matt’s helmet off and switch the safety back on his gun, Frank tossed both in the direction of the table and took Matt’s face in his hands, holding him back with some considerable effort.

“Hey, what’s up with you? You get clocked harder than it looked?” Frank tried to peer into Matt’s eyes – though fat lot of good _that_ would do, he supposed. Everything looked normal, no obvious bumps or wounds he could feel either as he ran his hands through Matt’s hair, trying – and failing – to calm him down.

Matt wrenched open Frank’s belt buckle and tugged down the zipper of his jeans. He still had that wild look about him, but his hands were steady as he pulled off his gloves. Leaning in close, he nosed at the underside of Frank’s jaw, drawing in a shuddering breath. “Shut up and let me blow you, Frank,” he growled, sinking to his knees.

Frank gasped and tipped his head back against the wall, swearing a blue streak as wet heat enveloped his cock. His hands clenched in Matt’s hair and he let himself enjoy the blowjob. Maybe he was just overthinking things.

~*~*~*~

Matt was weird the entire rest of the week. Not _bad_ weird – but weird.

The mission had been a success and Barton had bought them booze and Pad Thai in thanks, but as soon as he, Barnes, and Bishop had left, Matt had fixed Frank with that alarmingly accurate gaze and asked him his opinion on the Gospel of Luke.

What the _fuck._

What Frank _should_ have done was laugh in Red’s face and steal the last of the Pad Thai before the walking stomach that was Matt Murdock could eat it, but Frank was never really great at making solid life choices when it came to his love life.

“…Are we talking like, in general, in comparison to Mark and Matthew, the Acts, what specifically?”

A bottle of wine and a rather heated discussion of the parallels between Luke and John later, Frank found himself very naked on the couch with an equally naked and amorous Devil of Hell’s Kitchen fucking into him like it was their last night on earth.

The entire week progressed like that. Intense, loud, sometimes angry, theological discussions followed by what was absolutely the best fucking sex of Frank Castle’s life.

Really, he had no reason to complain, but it was weird and Frank had learned long ago to take weird seriously.

“This isn’t fucking funny, Barton,” Frank growled out as he paused in his pacing of Barton’s Bed-Stuy apartment, turning to glare at the hysterically giggling Avenger. “What if he _did_ get a concussion? What if he’s got his wires crossed or something?”

Barton wiped the tears from his eyes, took the drool-soaked tennis ball from Lucky’s mouth, and pitched it down the hall. “Dude, you are getting laid on a regular basis by one of the hottest people in New York – aside from me and Buck and Luke Cage, obviously – and you’re worried because he’s got a fucking Bible kink?”

“You are not – a _what?_ ” Okay, so Frank had always been a little bit of a vanilla guy, but something like this would have come up before – right?

“Clint,” Barnes warned from where he was sprawled out on the couch watching the Dodgers and Mets game.

“You saw how he got when you said you were gonna be a priest. He wanted to _eat you alive_ , man.”

Barnes sighed and took a sip of his beer and Frank just blinked stupidly at Barton. Was it that simple? A fucking kink? A _stupid_ fucking kink?

“I bet you a thousand bucks if you go to his office wearing a priest’s collar, he will do you on his goddamned desk,” Barton continued.

Frank collapsed onto a barstool and rubbed his hands over his face. “Why did I fuckin’ come here?” he muttered.

“Because you’re an asshole with like, four friends, and while we’d rather you _didn’t_ kill people, we’ve kinda got a soft spot for angry vigilantes,” Barton replied, pulling three beers out of the fridge and tossing one to Barnes, who caught it without looking. “And if we keep you getting laid, that’s less time for Murdock to get pissed we keep making fake Nelson and Murdock employees.”

“ _You_ keep making fake employees,” Barnes objected, popping the cap off his beer with his metal hand.

“Details.”

Frank could feel a headache coming on. He grabbed the beer, popped the cap on the countertop, and took a long drink. Even Barton’s taste in beer was shitty, but Frank wasn’t going to turn down free booze.

What the fuck was he supposed to do with the information anyway? Sure, it was great for his sex life, and if he were being honest, he really didn’t mind discussing theology, even with someone as self-righteous as Matt could be, but Matt took that shit _seriously_ , and that had to be some sort of fucking sin in and of itself, right?

Well, more of a sin than the sex out of wedlock. And the two guys shit. And Frank being a shameless murderer. Not to mention Red’s pride, definite wrathful issues, gluttony for _multiple_ things… Fine, maybe the sins were redundant at this point because both Frank and Matt were absolutely going to hell even before the Bible shit.

“So do I, I dunno, _encourage_ it?” Frank asked, feeling his cheeks heat even as he said it, and took another drink just to shut himself up.

“Do whatever the hell you want, man,” Barton said with a shrug. “If it makes you uncomfortable, talk to him about it. Otherwise, sit back, quote the Commandments or whatever, and enjoy the results.”

~*~*~*~

Frank took the rest of the day to think over Barton’s advice and hate himself for even considering it. Of all people, Frank had the least right to use the Bible to his advantage and just the thought had a long buried part of him squirming uncomfortably.

But goddammit, he _wasn’t_ a religious man, and whatever God there was had fucked him over countless times before and very clearly didn’t have the best interest of His children in mind. Maybe there wasn’t any harm in playing around with Red a bit.

He sighed and dumped the rest of the teriyaki sauce into the pan, giving it a deft flip to coat the veggies and chicken and then setting it down to reduce to a glaze. Pulling the plates out of the cabinet, he set them down on the counter and slipped Max a piece of chicken.

The door opened, and with it came Matt’s clipped tone, clearly upset with whomever he was talking to. Max bolted for the door, nails scrabbling on the hardwood floor as he barked his idiot head off, the alarm barking turning into happy pit bull warbling as he rounded the corner.

“No, look, I’m at home, call me tomorrow when I’m in the office and I’ll see what I can do,” Matt snapped, fending off Max’s excited wiggles with his cane as he hung up his phone and stuffed it into his pocket. “Max, stop, let me in the door.”

Frank whistled and Max trotted back into the kitchen, flopping down onto the cot in the corner. “Rough day?” he asked, looking up to kiss Matt quickly.

“Day full of morons,” Matt replied, yanking at his tie. “I swear they lowered the standards for passing the bar exam in this state because the sheer amount of stupid mistakes I’ve had to deal with today has been insane,” he bitched. Setting his briefcase down, he pulled his tie off and tossed it in the direction of the couch, his head tilting as he sniffed the air.

“Stir fry; figured you’d want something home cooked tonight,” Frank said, turning the stove off and dividing the contents of the pan between the plates. “Here, eat while you rant.”

Matt accepted the plate and chopsticks and allowed Frank to shoo him over to the couch. “It’s just bullshit, Frank, these guys charge twice as much as I do for half the skill and they’re just dragging people along by their bank accounts.”

Frank grunted in what he hoped was a sympathetic manner and shoved a forkful of chicken and sugar snap peas into his mouth. He nodded at regular intervals, knowing better than to interrupt Matt’s rants, and tried not to look too disinterested.

“And McClellan has the _nerve_ to think he can let this go to trial, as if Foggy and I won’t wipe the floor with him and embarrass him in front of his firm _again._ They can’t beat us, they’re nowhere near on our level, and it’s a fuckin’ shame their clients can’t see that,” Matt continued, gesturing wildly with his chopsticks. “A fool and his money though, I guess.”

“All those wins are goin’ to your head, Red,” Frank said with a smirk.

Matt shrugged one shoulder and shovelled some rice in his mouth. “Can’t help it if I’m good at what I do.”

“’But when his heart became arrogant and hardened with pride, he was deposed from his royal throne and stripped of his glory.’ Careful you don’t go down with ‘em,” Frank commented, the quote coming easily to mind for some reason. Maybe all the Bible talk with Barton and Barnes had jarred his fucked up memories – he _had_ been able to quote just about anything from it at one point in his life, after all.

The chopsticks froze in midair and Matt snapped his mouth shut. “Did you… did you just quote Daniel at me?”

Frank did a quick mental calculation. “Uh, 5:20, yeah.”

Matt set the chopsticks down and leaned forward, his head tilting slightly. “ _You’re_ warning me about pride?” That sharp tone to his voice was back, that lawyer tone that made Frank either want to punch him or fuck him. Or both. Sometimes it ended up with both.

“Technically Daniel’s warning you about pride,” Frank replied with a smirk. “I’m just the messenger.”

“Being confident in one’s work is hardly pride. If anything, condemn those who take advantage of those without the knowledge or means to help themselves.”

Frank set his plate down and leaned back into the couch. “Pretty sure I do condemn them, Red, but I can also see when you’re startin’ to get a swelled head.”

The red glasses clinked onto the coffee table as Matt carefully put them down. “You think I’m arrogant.”

“I know you’re arrogant, it’s one of your more irritating qualities.”

Matt rose smoothly to his feet and stalked toward Frank, his movements silent and deliberate, only the slightly glassy look of his eyes betraying his blindness. He took the plate from Frank’s hands and set it down on the end table, licking his lips slightly. His breathing was coming a little faster and – _oh._

Barton hadn’t been joking.

“I care about my work,” Matt said in a low tone, swinging one leg over Frank’s to straddle his lap. “If I happen to be good at my job, that’s not arrogance in the eyes of the Lord.”

Frank smiled slowly. Really, it was a stupidly easy game to win and Matt should feel bad that someone like Frank Castle was beating him. “’Do not keep talking so proudly or let your mouth speak such arrogance,’” Frank quoted, his mouth inches away from Matt’s as he sank his hands into Matt’s soft auburn hair. “’For the Lord is a God who knows, and by him deeds are weighed.’”

Matt bit the inside of his cheek and draped his arms over Frank’s shoulders. “I can’t believe you’re quoting Samuel at me.”

“Yeah, Samuel was probably full of shit ‘cause if God’s weighing our deeds right now, we’re fucked.”

“Blasphemy,” Matt rebuked, rolling his hips against Frank’s, his lips finding Frank’s ear and nibbling gently.

Frank groaned and tugged Matt closer, untucking the pristine white button down and finding the heated skin beneath. “I forget; how many Hail Marys is that?”

“Fuck if I know, just keep saying them until you forget the words,” Matt laughed as he fell back against the couch cushions and pulled Frank on top of him.

~*~*~*~

After that, things got… easier. Still kind of fucked up, in Frank’s opinion, but he hadn’t burst into flames yet and Matt still went to Mass on Sunday mornings with no weird side effects. He figured if God was apparently okay with Frank’s murderous tendencies, He was likely fine with Frank’s using the Good Book to his advantage in the bedroom.

Three months later, Barton called in another favour: a Hydra facility manufacturing weaponized drones had been discovered just over the border in New Jersey. He hadn’t really _needed_ the extra manpower, but it was Sergeant Barnes’ birthday, and Barton was clearly incapable of doing normal shit like baking a cake, so instead the party was celebrated with mass destruction of a Nazi operation.

Frank couldn’t complain; he’d attended far worse birthday parties.

“Sending out another wave!” Matt yelled, smashing a drone out of the air with his batons as he fought back to back with Frank. “Your six, Hawkeye!”

Both Hawkeyes turned, Barton nearly braining Barnes with his recurve and Bishop shooting a drone point blank without batting an eye.

“I really don’t know how the fuck they’re all still alive,” Frank muttered, picking off the first few drones with his rifle as the new wave hit them.

“You can’t kill a face this pretty, Frankie!” Barton whooped, taking out two drones with one arrow in an admittedly impressive shot.

“I could, and I have,” Frank retorted. He quickly reloaded, swearing as a drone’s bullet clipped his shoulder just a hair short of the Kevlar. “Bishop have control of the single brain cell you guys collectively share today?”

Bishop hopped down from her perch in the rafters, tossing a bundle of arrows to Barton and catching the one he threw in return. “I always have the brain cell. You think I’d trust these two with it?”

“That’s not fair, Bucky has it a solid 18% of the time,” Barton retorted.

Pieces of smashed drone flew by Frank’s head and Matt hauled him behind a stack of crates. “Four Hydra agents are trying to leave two rooms over,” Matt said, spitting blood out of his mouth. “Cover me and I’ll take them out. Hawk… _guy_ , you think you can get us a clear path?”

Barton’s bow _twanged_ as he loosed three arrows at once. “I got you, Daredevil. Buck, watch my rear –“

“Oh my _God_ ,” Bishop groaned.

“-and Katie-Kate, get back to your perch and see if you can get through the vents.”

Frank nudged Matt with his elbow, keeping his eyes fixed on the far doorway and waiting for the signal. “Hey, Deuteronomy 31:6,” he murmured, hoping to be quiet enough the comms wouldn’t pick it up.

“You fucker,” Matt groaned, grinning a positively feral grin. “’Be strong and of good courage, do not fear nor be afraid of them;’” he quoted without hesitation. His whole body was coiled like a livewire, ready to spring forward. “’For the Lord your God, He is the One who goes with you. He will not leave you or forsake you.’”

The coast was clear and Matt leaped forward, doing his usual unnecessary parkour shit off the walls and taking a Hydra agent down with a move he _had_ to have learned from the Black Widow. Frank followed, smashing the butt of his rifle into the back of a fleeing agent’s head.

“Matthew 10:28!” Matt yelled amid the chaos of the fleeing agents as they burst into the hallway.

Rolling his eyes, Frank shot out a Nazi’s kneecaps and cast a quick glance behind him to make sure Barton and Barnes were still holding up all right. “You’re just letting me win at this point, Red,” he growled, bringing his rifle up and taking aim. “’And do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul; but rather fear Him who is able to destroy both soul and body in Hell.’ My kinda quote, right there.”

_“Oh my fucking God, they’re flirting. Clint, make them stop flirting!”_ Bishop’s voice crackled into Frank’s earpiece, followed by a loud bang from above them.

“You guys can do all the foreplay you want but save the main event for when you get back to Hell’s Kitchen,” Barton called as they moved down the hallway with brutal efficiency.

_“Please stop talking, holy shit.”_

Matt snagged the last agent as he tried to get through to the fire escape, dragging him down to the floor and smashing the heel of his boot into the guy’s chest. “Hallway clear, going in.”

Adrenaline pumped through Frank’s veins as they kicked in the locked door at the end of the hall together, his whole body singing with the thrill of violence. “Hosea 6:1!” he roared like some sort of demented battle cry, fixating on the two Hydra agents raising their guns and lashing out with his KA-BAR, taking one in the throat and finding the gap in the Kevlar by the other’s armpit.

“Oh fuck you and fuck Hosea,” Matt snapped, flipping past Frank and taking out the operator with a flying kick. He wrestled the Nazi to the ground, giving him two vicious right hooks to the head and grunting with satisfaction. “Clear, Hawkguy.”

Barton strode into the room a moment later followed by Barnes, who was slightly favouring his left leg. He shouldered his bow and tapped a few keys, grinning happily. “Transmission never got off the ground; good work, Avengers!”

Frank cleared his throat and glared as he wiped his knife on the body of one of the guards.

“Fine, good work Avengers and Frank. Hawkeye, how’re we looking for an exit?”

_“Clear to the street, but I will so leave you for the cops if I see any smooching from any of you. Hands where I can see them, assholes.”_

Matt laughed and tugged Frank’s face close to his for a quick but searing kiss that was full of promise.

~*~*~*~

It could never be said that Matt Murdock didn’t follow through on his promises.

Frank bit his lip and clenched his fingers on Matt’s hips as Matt seated himself fully on Frank’s cock. They didn’t get time to just enjoy one another often, so being able to take their time and actually fuck on Matt’s decadent memory foam mattress and silk sheets was a heaven Frank never wanted to leave.

“Always so quiet, Frank,” Matt purred, bracketing his hands on either side of Frank’s head. He shifted slightly and groaned, those clouded blue eyes fluttering shut. “I can hear your heartbeat; I can hear the blood in your veins; I can hear every breath you try to hold back.”

Snapping his hips up, Frank managed to pull a long moan from Matt with a few deep thrusts. He braced his feet on the bed for leverage and moved his hands from Matt’s hips up to the messy red hair, pushing the strands out of Matt’s face. Pulling him close until their foreheads touched, Frank hissed at the strain in his abdomen and pressed a kiss just above each of Matt’s eyes.

“C’mon, Frank,” Matt pressed, his voice coming out in harsh pants as he rocked back to meet Frank’s thrusts. “Let me hear you.”

Frank slowed his thrusting, holding Matt close until he was just rocking shallowly into him. Wrapping one arm around Matt’s back, he kept the other hand carding through Matt’s hair, the words from Corinthians coming clearly and easily to his mind. “’Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud,’” he whispered against Matt’s lips, voice barely audible to his own ears.

Matt gasped as Frank sat up, keening quietly at the change in angle. His eyes were open again, wide as they took in whatever his weird radar senses could register.

“’It does not dishonour others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs,’” Frank continued, heat flushing to his cheeks that he knew Matt would pick up on as his voice wavered a bit with emotion.

“’Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with truth,’” Matt picked up where Frank left off, sounding just as wrecked as Frank felt. “’It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.’”

They’d come a long fucking way from Frank shooting Matt in the head to quoting the Good Book about love in bed together. Frank felt his throat tighten and he buried his face in Matt’s neck.

‘Love never fails’ went unsaid, because sometimes it _did_ fail and they both knew enough about failure to jinx themselves again, but the rest of the quote fit well enough. They’d persevere together, through supervillains, annoying Avengers, and whatever else God decided to throw at them.


End file.
